


A Lifetime's Worth

by myheadsgonenumb



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Forgetting, IWRY fic, Lost Day, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, turning back time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29645757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myheadsgonenumb/pseuds/myheadsgonenumb
Summary: "In the few hours we had together we loved a lifetime's worth" - Sarah Connor.When Angel made his decision to become human again, turning back time and erasing the previous day, his was not the only love story robbed of it's happy ending.This one day is the only chance Doyle and Cordy will ever have to be together - and they won't even remember it.An IWRY fic. Three moments Doyle and Cordy will never know they had.
Relationships: Cordelia Chase/Allen Francis Doyle
Kudos: 3





	1. Wanting

Her plants were dying and she blamed Buffy - where that girl went, dark forces followed. And Doyle was worse than useless, not only did he not trust her diagnosis, but he accused her -  _ Cordelia _ \- of being jealous. Of  _ Buffy Summers _ .

Cordelia was not jealous of Buffy. Not ever in this lifetime. She just wanted what Buffy had, is all. 

Not Angel, dear God, no. Lord only knows Cordy didn’t want to get saddled with that brooding, penny-pincher - Buffy could have him. But that great love? To be so lost inside of it that it was the middle of the day and you were downstairs making wild, passionate love on the kitchen table, while the rest of the world plodded by … yeah she wanted that.

She wanted the warmth and security of being adored; she wanted strong arms to hold her; she wanted to hold hands and go to the movies and stay up late cuddling on the sofa, watching T.V, talking about dumb stuff and making each other laugh; she wanted kisses and caresses and sweet nothings whispered in her ear. 

She wanted orgasms.

Most of all, she wanted to be the most important person in somebody’s world - to matter to them above anything else. And to feel the same way in return, to love somebody so much it ached. 

That was what Buffy had and that was what Cordelia wanted. 

But she didn’t even know where to look for it … or more truthfully, she was too frightened to ask for it. After Xander … Once bitten, twice shy and all. 

And she wasn’t even sure that sort of love was possible for her and … somebody else. Maybe the epic, sweeping romance that Buffy got to have came hand in hand with the ridiculously heightened melodrama that surrounded the rest of her life. Maybe normal people just couldn’t have that level of passion. 

And Cordelia was normal. And so was … somebody else. 

Maybe the best Cordy could ever have was a blurry, dull, muted version of what it was Buffy was downstairs enjoying right now. Maybe she would never feel what Buffy was feeling, or experience what Buffy was experiencing. 

So yeah, OK - damn right she  _ was _ jealous. And afraid. And slightly sweaty at the thought of everything she wanted and was currently missing out on. 

But just because s _ omebody _ had happened to come up with the right answer didn’t mean he was  _ right _ . Or knew what he was talking about. He was completely hopeless - he never knew what he was talking about. It was just - sometimes - he made a lucky guess.

She threw him a furious glance, and he smiled back at her sympathetically. She folded her arms and looked away again, chewing her lip - nervous that he _ did  _ know what he was talking about and that, in fact, he knew just as much as she did - and that those sympathetic eyes were because he understood  _ exactly _ what it was she was thinking.


	2. Confession

He wasn’t expecting Cordelia to be waiting for him, when he limped back into the office; after he had finally regained consciousness and made his way back to work. 

The mohra demon was dead, the day was won - but Doyle was sore, and his head was throbbing. 

But Cordelia still being in the office drove his various aches and pains out of his mind almost immediately. He was sure she would have gone home by now - and wasn’t sure she would be back in tomorrow, what with Angel being human and the future of the agency being up in the air and all. To get to see her - even if this would turn out to be for the last time - was a welcome surprise. 

‘How goes the closing down sale?’ He asked her, he leaned against the doorframe so his weary bones didn’t have to support him alone. 

She whirled around, on hearing his voice, ‘You’re back.’

‘Yeah - in one piece and everythin’.’ 

‘I thought you were dead.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I was worried.’ 

‘Oh…’ he wasn’t sure what to say to that, but he felt a satisfied smile creep across his face - and a sudden rush of heat to his cheeks. 

But Cordy wasn’t paying attention any more, she was back to sticking post it notes on the furniture. ‘So are you injured?’ she asked him, her voice was casual - overly casual, it sounded to his ears.

‘Just some scrapes - bruises. I got knocked out, got a big lump on my noggin.’ 

She tutted and shook her head, ‘well, here, let me see.’ Abandoning the post its she took hold of his hand and dragged him across to the couch. They sat down and she began to examine him. ‘Follow my finger,’ she told him, waving it slowly back and forth in front of his eyes. 

He dutifully did as he was told - and she tutted again. ‘Well, your eyes are focusing - so hopefully not too much brain damage. You know, to go on top of the visions and alcohol that are already killing your brain cells. Fortunately you do so little around here, that we won’t  _ actually _ notice if your brain turns to mush and you start to vegetate. We’ll just have to invest in a bib to catch the drool.’ 

‘I like to think I play my part,’ he said, he was still aware of that satisfied smile stretching across his face, so much his cheeks were starting to ache. Even her teasing wasn’t putting a dint in it - if anything - it was making it worse. 

‘Uhuh - and while you’re “playing with your part”, the rest of us are getting all the work done.’ She looked up from examining the scrapes on his hand then, and he saw how soft her eyes were. They were completely at odds with her voice. ‘Why didn’t you take Buffy with you in the first place?’ she asked, ‘it’s her job to die fighting monsters, not yours.’ 

‘Nothin’ to do with me,’ he shrugged - he was more than usually aware of his heart beating in his chest. Cordelia was sitting so close - and he was struggling to hide how pleased her concern was making him, trying to act like it was no big deal - and no doubt fooling no one. Least of all Cordy. ‘I told him to take her, he didn’t want to wake her up.’ 

‘But why would you listen to him?’ She dropped his hand in order to throw her own up in the air in frustration. Doyle’s hand immediately felt cold and empty, and he moved it on to his lap - flexing his fingers to try and shake off the feeling. 

Cordelia was still ranting. ‘He’s an idiot! An even bigger idiot than you. He’s human now - he can’t fight things any more, he’s as useless as the rest of us. You should have  _ insisted _ he take the superchick - it’s what she’s for. She has - like - no other reason to live than to kill things. But you - you have lots of reasons to live, and you might have been killed and then where would _ I _ be? It’s bad enough Angel turns human and I lose my job without losing  _ you _ as well…’ 

She stopped talking and blushed furiously, her eyes widening in alarm as she realised what she had said. ‘I mean…’ But she didn’t seem to have an end to that sentence, maybe she didn’t know what she had meant. Or maybe she had meant exactly what she’d said. 

Doyle lowered his eyes so he was staring at his hands in his lap. He didn’t know what to say to that - but his heart was now beating painfully fast and the most shining, golden feeling of hope was swelling up inside of him like a bubble, which he was afraid to burst. And yet the longer he stayed quiet - and the more furiously Cordelia blushed - the bigger that bubble became, until it felt his chest could not contain it and it must surely explode outwards. 

‘Um … I mean…’ he twisted his hands together. ‘I didn’t, y’know ... die, so… I mean, I’m sorry I worried y’ but … I’m still here … so…’ 

‘Just - forget it.’ She got to her feet, she seemed angry though he wasn’t sure if she was furious at herself or at him. ‘I’m going home.’

‘Wait,’ he stood up as well, ‘it’s … dark out. I could - I could … walk you?’ 

They stared at each other - and her eyes were still hard and angry. Doyle held his breath … and then she nodded, a quick, curt nod. As mad as she was at herself, she was still willing to accept his overture … that had to mean something, right? 

She grabbed her jacket and he followed her out of the door, pausing only to lock it, before they walked out into the night. 

...

It was awkward at first - the walk home. Usually things were never awkward between them, they were always teasing and joking and flirting - just having fun, enjoying each other’s company. But that was when their real feelings were still completely underneath the surface, hidden and unspoken. 

Now Cordelia had said something, and seemed to wish she could retract it - and Doyle was desperate for her not to take it back, wanted to pursue this line of thought … but didn’t want to push too hard, go too far and scare her off. 

So he didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like  _ she _ didn’t know what to say either - and so it just loomed large between them, making things awkward. 

‘Um - so … do y’ think we’ll make much money from the goin’ outta business sale?’ he asked, finally - unable to think of anything else to say. 

‘Well… ‘ her voice was very careful, like - after her previous outburst - she was being doubly guarded with her words, in case something else she didn’t mean to say out loud escaped her. ‘Some of Angel’s weapons are antique - and I guess he doesn’t need them any more, we might make a penny or two on those.’ 

‘Good - uh - great … and uh … what now? Back to actin’?’

‘I never stopped acting.’ 

‘Right - no. But I guess you’ll have more time for auditions now - that’s a good thing, right?’ 

But she didn’t answer. ‘What about you?’ she asked, her words came out blunt, ‘what will you do - what  _ did _ you do … before?’ 

He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. ‘Nothin’ much. Nothin’ good. I don’t wanna go back to that. But it turns out that - Angel might be free - but I’m not. As long as I got these visions, I guess I can’t turn my back on helpin’ people. I guess I’ll still have to try.’

‘You think you might need a secretary?’ 

He smiled, ‘I guess I could maybe find use for one - hey, send me your resume and I’ll be sure to consider y’ for the post.’ 

She swatted him with the back of her hand, ‘watch it, buster!’ They both began to laugh - and the awkwardness dissipated a little, though the moment of levity only lasted a short time - and they went back to quiet and heavy contemplation. 

‘Even with your visions, and my astute business acumen … we can’t really make it work without the muscle to back it up, can we?’ Cordelia asked, after a while. ‘I mean, you can see the people in danger, and I can send the bill - but if we don’t manage to save them…’ 

‘Well - I mean, The Powers can’t keep sendin’ me visions o’ people I can’t help. If they want me to be a seer that’s any use, they’re gonna have to find a solution - find me a new champion, I guess.’

‘Someone to do Angel’s job for him?’

‘I guess…’ 

She sighed again. ‘It won’t be the same without Angel.‘ She slipped her arm through his. 

He looked down at where they were connected. ‘No … I guess it won’t be.’

‘Doyle - why do you get the visions? How come they send them to you?’ 

He swallowed, feeling a sudden surge of hot panic inside of him, ‘um - well, like I told you before, they’re my gift.’

‘Right - a really crappy gift. But what made the PTB decide to give that crappy gift to you in particular? There’s six million people in the city, six billion people in the world. How come you got tapped for the gig?’

‘Why is Buffy the slayer?’ he asked, feeling awkward again; he could feel the back of his neck burning. ‘It’s just my destiny, I guess.’ 

‘Well I still don’t think it makes sense.’

‘Maybe it’s not supposed to.’

But she blew a raspberry at that idea, ‘well that’s a load of cryptic bull.’ 

He chuckled. ‘Yeah - well, that’s what my visions feel like most of the time. You know - besides the mind numbing, head cracking agony of it all.’ Then he noticed that she was watching him, she was looking searchingly at his profile, her eyes narrowed. ‘What?’ 

‘Are you telling the truth?’ she asked. 

He tried to laugh again - though it came out weakly.  _ ‘What?’  _

‘The truth. Are you telling me the truth? Do you really not know why you’re a seer - or are you hiding something from me?’ 

‘I - uh - ‘ He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to lie. But he wasn’t ready for this, this wasn’t how he had planned it. He needed more time - he needed her in a better mood, and some flashcards with bullet points to help him say it properly, and maybe a bit of Dutch courage. Not to be taken by surprise while walking home, battle bruised and contemplating a return to the employment line. 

But she was still staring at him, her eyebrows were raised, her eyes were getting hard again and every second he didn’t answer only seemed to confirm to her that she was right. ‘You are hiding something!’ her tone was accusatory. ‘I don’t believe this!’ Her arm dropped from his and she picked up her pace, storming ahead of him. 

‘Cordelia - please - wait!’ He jogged after her and tried to grab hold of her arm, but she shook him off. 

‘You tell me the truth or you go on home, Doyle, and don’t bother calling in the morning - I won’t answer.’ She didn’t slow down. 

‘Cordy!’

‘I hate people lying to me, and I hate people keeping secrets from me and you - buddy - seem to be doing both.’ She reached the entrance to her apartment complex and followed the path round to her own home. Doyle still trailed haplessly behind her. 

She paused at her front door and turned to look at him. ‘Well,’ she glared at him, ‘which is it gonna be?’ There was a definite challenge in her eyes. But at least she was giving him this final chance, she could have just gone straight inside and slammed the door in his face. 

Doyle sighed - and then nodded. He put his hands in his pockets and scuffled his feet, worrying about how to say this - and how she would react. She was already mad at him… ‘OK, you’re right,’ he admitted. ‘There is some stuff that I mighta … failed to mention … but it wasn’t ‘cause I wanted to lie to you,’ he added hurriedly, seeing the light of fury glimmer in her eyes. ‘It’s just … it’s hard OK? And it’s not anythin’ I’m proud of. It’s the opposite in fact - dead opposite. About the most dead opposite of proud as y’ can possibly get…’ 

‘Doyle.’ 

‘Right,’ he got back on track. Sighing again, he looked down at his feet, screwed up his courage - and then looked back up at her. ‘I never knew my dad,’ he told her, ‘that’s … I guess that’s the start of it. I never met him, my mam never told me anythin’ about him and, honestly, I never even thought that much about him - never wondered who he was or thought to ask questions.’ He chuckled darkly, ‘maybe I should have done.’ 

‘Is this going somewhere?’ She still sounded impatient, he hadn’t managed to enthrall her enough with the weaving of his words and the magic of his story to make her forget her anger. 

‘Yeah - it is. So - I never knew my dad. I grew up, moved to the States … married, y’know, Harri…’ He mumbled his ex wife’s name - thinking this was probably the worst time he could bring her up. But - like his dad - this story didn’t happen without Harri. She was part of it. And if he was going to tell Cordy the truth, he couldn’t miss her out.

But Cordelia didn’t say anything, didn’t react to the sound of Harri’s name - so he carried on. ‘I worked as a teacher,’ he told her. ‘Third grade - if you can believe it. Everything was normal - I led a completely normal life. I didn’t know the first thing about monsters or demons or vampires or what not. If I ever thought about them, I thought they were make believe - children’s stories.’ 

‘So what changed?’ 

He swallowed hard. This was the moment of truth. ‘I did,’ he said, looking down at his feet again. ‘On my twenty first birthday, I woke up - and … everythin’ was normal, Harri was gonna make pancakes and then I sneezed and well…’ 

Not knowing how to say it, he figured it would be easier to just show her. Hesitating for only a moment, knowing she was watching him expectantly, he morphed into his spikes - feeling them push through his skin and knowing as soon it was done that it was too late to take it back. ‘This happened.’ 

He just caught a glimpse of the startled look on Cordy’s face, before he shook off his demon features and - human looking once more - went back to staring at his feet. ‘It turns out that the dad I never met wasn’t human. He was a demon - of the green, spiky variety. And I’m  _ half demon _ , and when I turned 21 my genes ... came out.’

‘Is that why Harri left you?’ Her voice had a tremble to it, and he could only assume she was barely containing her anger… or her disgust. 

He didn’t dare look up again, but he shook his head. ‘No - I thought it was, for years - I assumed … well, wouldn’t you? But it was more complicated than that. I guess life always is.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I was - angry, when I changed. All the time. I guess you’d be surprised to know I wasn’t much of a drinker before?  _ This _ was when I started hittin’ the bottle. Harri left because I was makin’ her miserable. I was makin’ her miserable because _ I  _ was miserable. And I stayed miserable - for years. I drank and smoked and … well, did some really stupid stuff. Like,  _ criminal  _ stuff. I just figured that was what demons did, and I fell into it wholeheartedly…’ 

He wrinkled his brow, as he remembered what came next - the worst of all he had ever done. ‘And then one day a demon came to me. He was the same species as my dad … as _me_ … he was asking for help. And I wouldn’t help him. He was killed, his whole family too - and that … that was when I started gettin’ the visions. That’s why I was chosen… They’re my punishment. And…’ he took a deep breath and finally dared to look up, ‘I guess The Powers don’t think I’ve been punished enough, or fully atoned, or whatever - ‘cause even though Angel is released from his fealty, I’m not. So I gotta keep on atoning.’

Cordelia was just staring at him, her mouth was ever so slightly open. 

He sighed again, and shook his head. ‘I shouldda told you all this earlier … I was just afraid. I’m sorry. I’ll - I’ll understand if y’ don’t wanna be a part of helping me with the hopeless anymore... ’ 

Cordelia still didn’t say anything. 

Doyle shuffled his feet, ‘well - I guess, I guess I’ll see you around…’ and he walked off into the night, leaving her alone in the doorway. She didn’t call out after him - not that he had expected her to, but still … he had hoped.

But it had gone the way he had always thought it would. And now that shining, golden bubble was well and truly burst. 


	3. A Stolen Future

She barely slept all night. 

Doyle had walked away, and she had watched him go - his head hanging low, his shoulders slumped in dejection - he was still limping slightly from his run in with the mohra - and seeing him that way, she felt her first pang of guilt. 

She had insisted he tell her what was going on - but she hadn’t imagined it would be _ that _ . She hadn’t thought it would be something so intimate and personal and painful. She would never have forced a confession from him if she had even the barest inkling of how much the truth was none of her business. 

And now Doyle was hurting, because she’d forced him to give more of himself than he was ready to give - and that was all her fault, and so she felt lousy with guilt. Just wretched.

She didn’t want to hurt Doyle. That was the last thing she wanted. 

But she had - because of her stupid, bull in a China shop, pigheaded, self-centredness. God - she could be such a bitch - and when she wasn’t even trying to be!

She bit her lip and closed her eyes - but all she saw, behind her shut lids, was the image of Doyle limping away - in physical pain,  _ and _ pain that she had caused him. Bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch. It was like she couldn’t help herself - she was just a horrible person. No matter how nice someone tried to be to her - and Doyle had always been nice and kind and caring and thoughtful and really sweet - she would still act like a total bitch to them, she was just too selfish to do anything else. 

When Doyle looked back on this whole disaster, he would wonder why he had ever wasted his time trying to be considerate to someone so completely incapable of being considerate to him. 

And she didn’t want that.

And so she couldn’t sleep. All the soothing ginger and lemon tea in the world wasn’t getting her there. In fact - all it was doing was making her need to pee...

After a quick trip to the bathroom, cursing the cold tiles beneath her bare feet, she got back into bed - relieved, now that the pressure on her bladder had been - and pulled her covers over her head. But still, all she could see was Doyle limping away into the dark of the night, alone and unhappy. 

She sighed - so deeply it was like all the air leaving a tyre at once - and curled her hands into fists, smashing them down on the mattress beside her. ‘Idiot!’ she hissed at herself. And then she just lay there, smothered under her bedclothes and failing to get to sleep. 

Hours crawled past, she became aware of the clock in the living room - it’s hand ticking away  _ every _ second. Tick tock. Tick tock. Bitch bitch. Tick tock. She pulled her covers down, sighed again and stared at the ceiling. 

More time passed. 

Her eyes started to itch with the staring. She shut them - and saw Doyle. She opened them - and felt the itch. 

Eventually -  _ eventually _ \- her thoughts became woolly and disjointed, making less and less sense - her bitter self-recriminations became more outlandish and confused … and she drifted into a very light and incredibly unrestful sleep - in which the guilt and Doyle’s pain still swished around inside her head, just in a more abstract way.

... 

She woke up when the first rays of sun started to stream through the window - she checked the digital clock beside her, it wasn’t even 6 yet. 

‘Oh god,’ she brought her hands up to her head, the tips of her fingers digging into her hairline, and stared at the ceiling some more. She didn’t feel any better now the morning was here. If anything, she felt worse. 

After what seemed like forever, the digits on her clock rolled around to six. She heard the second hand on the clock in the living room tick around and the minute hand thunk into place on the hour. And suddenly she couldn’t stand lying there feeling guilty another minute.

She sat up and grabbed the phone, before she had time to talk herself out of it, and dialled Doyle’s number. 

He answered almost immediately, and from the sound of it he hadn’t slept much either. ‘’Lo?’ His voice was all raspy. 

‘Hi - it’s me. I wanna talk to you. If you’ll talk to me. Will you come over?’

‘Uh - yeah - uh - now?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘OK,’ he sounded puzzled - and more than a little worried. But he didn’t sound angry. Maybe he hadn’t worked out he should be pissed with her yet. 

She hung up the phone and then jumped out of bed, her heart was beating against her rib cage and she felt sick with nerves. She stumbled her way into the bathroom and brushed her teeth and then her hair - pulling it back into a long ponytail, and stared into the mirror examining the dark circles under her eyes. It would be obvious she hadn’t slept - she didn’t have time to do a full face of makeup, it wouldn’t take Doyle long to get across the city at this early hour. 

She smudged some concealer onto the worst of her bags, put in eyedrops to make her eyes look brighter and then applied a bit of lip gloss … it would have to do. 

Then she pulled off her pajamas and put on some joggers and a tee - she wanted to be comfy for this, but she couldn’t have this talk in her pjs. 

Once dressed, she made herself a cup of coffee and then she sat on the sofa and waited tensely for Doyle to arrive. The second hand on the clock kept on ticking around. 

...

At ten to seven there was a knock on the door and - with her legs feeling wobbly and her tummy feeling like there was a whole load of butterflies inside battering to get out - she went to open it. 

Without a bag full of makeup and a handy tube of concealer, Doyle had not been able to hide the dark circles under his eyes - and his hair stuck up, fluffy, pointing in every direction. He looked as tired as she felt. But his eyes were narrow, and alert - as if he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

‘Hi, come in,‘ she ushered him inside. 

He followed her in and then stood in the middle of her living room, looking awkward. She became aware of the ticking of the clock again - sounding deafeningly loud in the uncomfortable silence. 

She bit her lip, and clutched her coffee cup to her chest for its protection. She wanted him to sit down, so she could sit down next to him - but he stayed standing and so she did too, hovering near the door and feeling the beginnings of regret at asking him over. ‘Uh - you want some coffee?’ she asked.

‘Um - no, actually - can we just … whatever you have to say can you just say it? Let’s get it over with, yeah?’ 

She swallowed, it felt like there was a painful lump in her throat - he must be angry with her after all, which - she couldn’t blame him - but it still made her afraid for how this was going to go. ‘Yeah - sure - um I just … well what I wanted to say was … I mean, I’m sorry - you know? About last night.’ 

He blinked at her. ‘What?’ 

The butterflies beat their wings harder and the lump seemed to grow more solid, and she was worried she wouldn’t be able to speak past it. ‘I’m sorry - for making you tell me all that stuff last night. It was private and I should have backed off. I know I don’t like secrets but they weren’t secrets, they were personal stuff - and you have a right to keep that to yourself, like - there are just some things that don’t belong in share mode. Like - if you had a terrible disease that would be entirely your business and you wouldn’t have to tell anyone - not even your friends - unless you wanted to…’ 

She caught sight of his face, and heard her own words echo back in her ears and closed her eyes - cursing herself silently. ‘I mean - not that being part demon is like having a terrible disease, I didn’t mean it like that _ at all  _ \- I just mean … your genetics are your business, you know?’ 

He still didn’t say anything. 

‘So I’m sorry,’ she said again, she had a sinking feeling that she was not going to be forgiven so easily. 

He blinked again. ‘You’re sorry?’ he said finally.

She nodded her head, her whole body felt tense. ‘I know - it’s totally lame, it doesn’t fix it - I get that. I do. But I still wanted to say it.’

‘You wanted to say you’re sorry,’ he said slowly, ‘... to me? For …’

‘Making you tell me about your demon half - I shouldn’t have pried!’

‘Huh,’ he looked confused for a moment - and then dropped down onto the sofa. ‘Huh,’ he said again. He looked up at her, she stared back at him nervously. ‘Well … that wasn’t what I expected you to say.’ 

She furrowed her brow. ‘Well, what did you think I was going to say?’ 

‘I thought you called me over to yell at me.’

She felt even more confused. ‘If I wanted to yell at you I wouldn’t ask you over to talk, I’d tell you to get your ass over here so I could yell at you.’ 

He started to smile - and Cordelia started to feel the first tinges of relief - and maybe hope, that it was going to be OK. ‘Yeah, I suppose you would.’ 

‘Anyway,’ she plucked up the courage to sit down next to him, ‘why did you think I would want to yell at you?’ 

‘Well…’ he looked uncomfortable, ‘about me being a demon.’

‘That’s insane! What? I’m gonna be mad at you ‘cause you’re not human? How is that your fault? I don’t care about that...’ She caught herself again. ‘I mean - I don’t mean I don’t care, not in an uncaring way, I mean it doesn’t make any difference - to us. Nothing’s actually changed, has it?’ 

‘Well, I guess when you put it that way...’ 

‘I can’t believe you’d think I’d care about this. I mean, you’re short and you’re poor and you’re badly dressed and you expect me to see past all of that. What? You think I can forgive _ that  _ shirt but not your DNA?’ 

He glanced down at the shirt he was wearing, as if to see what was so unforgivable about it, and when he looked up he was smiling. ‘Do you really mean it - about things not being different between us?’ 

‘Yeah, well,’ she shuffled a little. ‘Maybe. Maybe things could be different - you know if you wanted.’

He looked confused, ‘what do you mean?’

Jeez, she was gonna have to spell it out to him. ‘Like - maybe - if you wanted to ask me out to dinner, I’d probably say yes.’ 

‘Yeah?’ Suddenly his smile was very wide. 

‘Yeah’ - she felt her own grow wide to match his. 

‘OK,’ he cleared his throat. He was still grinning. ‘Cordelia - I know we’re both unemployed right now and money was always tight at the best o’ times … but would you, if we can find the cash behind the couch cushions, like to go out with me for dinner one night?’

She couldn’t control her smile, and her cheeks felt flushed and warm - and the butterflies had given up their battering, but now her tummy was flip flopping all over the place - making her glad she hadn’t tried to eat anything before he arrived. ‘OK - I mean,  _ yes _ .’ 

‘Really?’ 

‘Yes! Really.’ 

‘Good.’ He hadn’t stopped smiling, they hadn’t stopped staring at each other - and Cordelia was suddenly aware of her heart beating in time to the ticking of the clock. The silence between them lengthened, and they kept on smiling - and then Doyle leaned forward, slowly - and Cordelia inhaled sharply, and then held her breath.

He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and then closed the distance between them - his lips brushing against her own, featherlight and barely there. She closed her eyes and kissed him back.

The second hand clunked onto the twelve. 

…

‘Are you sure we shouldn’t have gone in to check on them?’ Doyle asked her, as they left the office and headed down the street. 

‘What?’ She frowned ... ‘No. They can take care of themselves - they both have superpowers, remember? We go sticking our noses in where they’re not wanted and wind up getting them broken.’ 

There was a tug at her heart, a pain in her chest - a strange emptiness telling her something wasn’t right, that something precious had been lost. 

But then the sensation was gone, just as suddenly as it had arrived and, by the time she and Doyle reached the coffee shop, she had already forgotten all about it.

**The End**


End file.
